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Thursday, September 20, 2007

A very DC date

I had what I think is probably a very DC date recently. Except not with a lawyer, shockingly enough. Because I am trying to branch out.

I did have a temporary injunction against dating lawyers a year ago, but then I realized that meant I'd have pretty much no dates, so it was short lived. But still. I'm trying to broaden my horizens.

This one was with a journalist. One whose name was not familiar to me, but that a few of my friends knew. Someone accomplished. Someone easily Googleable.

Very, very resume-ly impressive. And attractive, fit, and smart. Could've been amazing. But the truth is? He wound up making me angry. And prompted this post. If there's a part two, I'll go further into it.

We'd arranged to meet for drinks downtown after work. I was excited to hear war stories. Like, literal war stories! I figured it would be really interesting.

He called me the afternoon of the date to confirm that we were still on, and if I still wanted to meet at the same time and place. Because, he said, he had a "thing" on CNN that night, so he was double-checking, because he was going to have the car pick him up there.

Huh. As in oh, wow! I mean, I figured he mentioned it because it's impressive, and that's a little irritating. But still, who gets whisked off to a thing at CNN?

I'm punctual, but he was already at the bar when I arrived. So after we'd been talking a while, and had ordered a second glass of wine, he asked if I'd like to have dinner that night. And since we'd been having an actual conversation (which contrasted starkly with the endless interview over dinner) and fun chitchat, it seemed like a natural invitation.

If so, he continued, would I like to go along to CNN? The interview wouldn't take long, and then we could have the car drop us at a restaurant.

Now, I am all about random experiences. And this sounded cool! Holy cow!

It briefly crossed my mind to wonder if I'd seem like a floozy traipsing in behind him. But then I reminded myself that I was wearing a fairly conservative dress and tasteful shoes. And my chunky glasses. So worst case scenario, I might seem like a tarty librarian along for the ride or something.

Of course, I didn't want to seem all holy cow! TeeVee! so I nonchalantly said sure, that sounded like a fun adventure.

But then I pictured sitting there endlessly, with nothing to do. And it will not surprise you to hear that I often have a New Yorker in my bag, but that evening I didn't. So I asked, "Are they going to give me some reading material? I don't have any along."

"Reading material? What are you talking about?"

"You know, while I wait through your interview. I don't want to just sit there; I want to have something to do. So you think they'll have something to read?"

"I won't be on air more than five minutes. Literally. And at this point we're going to get there too late for makeup, so I'm just going to walk into the studio. And then we'll leave immediately and have dinner."

"Oh, OK."

"And anyway, you could do something like, oh, watch me on TV while I'm on it!"

Well, huh. Makes sense they'd have one in the waiting room. Being a television station and all.

7 comments:

That is so lame! [i] "Hey, I'm just gonna casually reference that I'm TV so that she realizes that I'm a pretty big deal and my office smells of rich mahagony. Then, if she doesn't get it, I'll tell her to come watch me ON TV, then she'll want to touch my thingy. Oh, yeah baby. I am the mack daddy!!!". [/i]

Hey, Lis, did I mention that, like, I'm a lawyer and stuff? Well, yeah, and I'm sorry to cut our date short but the law office place is sending a cab for me--some people call it a lawyermobile--and I have to like, go into the office for a few minutes to sue somebody. YOu know, because I'm a lawyer and all that. Want to see me do it? I'll just be on the computer (and printer!) a few minutes. You can come watch me!

Awesome story. This guy does the rest of us a disservice. The real move is to wait until the lady starts talking about sports, and then flippantly mention that you've seen Derek Jeter in nothing but a jock. Then they want to touch you ... but only until they realize you can't give them his phone number.